Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1887-03-03

love to compensate her. She would
not heye lost him utterly; she could
have lived on, with the certainty Of
meeting him unchanged at last, inst
as she had existed through her tie.
ulous worK-a-days, sure of his com
partnership at their close-the one
brightness IN all her sombre DAYS
the hours that were never absent
from her thoughts, the hope that had
carried her through all difficulties un.
compiainincly. Now there was moth,
ing Tor her to live for or to die for. II
seemed to her that the bloom was
stripped from the world. She could
not reconcile herself to her changed
condition, nor adjust herself to the
belief that Aleck had cared nothing
Tor her through all the years that had
been to her like heaven on earth
that he had merely been passing the
time. She felt as ii the solid earth
| had failed beneath her feet, and her
life stretched out before her in dreary
and barren perspective. II she could
only be allowed to preserve the illu.
SION that he loved her, wherever
ne might be, that would have
sutficed for happiness, would have
gllded all the empty years she must
spend on earth without the sun of his
presence. But people do not die
when they have nothing to live for.
Hetty's aunt trusted to time to miti.
gate the blow; she remembered that
she had herself once had lover who
deserted her; she had cried her e,es
out, and had given away all her level
ry, and believed she was done with
everything; but ten years later he
passed her window daily, a bald, gouty
man from whom theglamour had fled
| But she had forgotten that he had
robbed her of the power of loving any
one else, and that other lovers
had sighed in vain. When
Betty first went out, and began to
resume her ordinary life as if nothing
had hppened, the Squire's family had
gone abroad, and had taken Louise
Turner with them to tighten the shad.
ow of their grief; and stone in the
squire's lot in the cemetery recorded
the fact that Aleck Fanshawe had
lived and died. 1t would have been a
melancholy comfort for Betty to
bang wreaths upon that great white
stone that confronted her like a ghost
among the 'shrubbery, to plant flow.
ers about it, But how could she Law
ish such loving trifies in memory oil
the man who had deprived her OF the
poor privilege of weeping for him?
She sometimes felt as il she would like
to leave Haven forever; every road
ana stiie and bit OF wood reminded
her OF Aleck. l. was here he met her
on her daily walk from school; it
was in the wood they gathered the
autumn leaves, and came home laden
with spoils; on this river the moon
light had found them; on this wild
bank Aleck had sat ana sketcked the
scene Tor her; beneath this tree he had
read to her from the poets. The very
air of the places they had frequented
together seemed filled with the tender
words he had spoken. Could it be
that he had not cared? Why, then,
had he spent his last evening ashore
with her? He had left early, to be
sure, saying he must pack and
be of by daybreak. Had he
gone from her to Louise? The bough
OF scarlet berries he had given her
that night had hung in her room ever
since, where her eyes would see it on
waking. The first time she was able
to walk across theroom after her i'll.
ness she took it down and threw it
upon the open fire; indeed, she took
out allhis letters for the samepurpose
but put them back again, not strong
enough &c abandon them all at once
1t was summer at Haven, but it was
not summer in Betty lie Breton's
heart. think she remembered other
Junes, whose flowers were no sweeter.
woods were no greeher-Junes that had
borrowed something of their charm
from her own happiness, that like the
moon shone with borrowed light. She
was trying to sing one OF the old songs
at her piano one twilight--songs she
had sung with Aleck in their drives
through the woodland aisles, where
they had loved to lingeT; but the sobs
choked her, and the tears crowded and
jostled each other in her eyes; and
suddenly, when the last vibration oil
the notes had ceased, a voice outside
took up the strain and sangit through.
at is Aleck, she cried, hurrying TO.
ward the piazza like one in a dream.
Then she walked. turned back, and sat
down. Supposing it was Aleck. he be-
lcnged TO Louise, OF course it was a
mistake. 1t was because she had been
thinking about him. Aleck was dead,
and she had no right to think of him.
she never would think OF him again
never; she would forget him, as hehad
forgotten her. Dead or alive he could
be nothing to her-nothing, nothing.
He had broken her heart; could one
love with broken heart?
SOMEBODY was coming into the room
with lighted lamp, proceeded by exciS.
ed voices. Ii was Miss LIE Breton, fol.
lowed by Mrs, Ames.
Isn't it Marvellous she was say.
ing. "Such shock, too, for the
Sauire's family, just as they were get
ting used to the idea of DEATH"
.'But is it true2" asked Miss LIE Bret:
on.
Betty had shrunken into the dark
corner of the long room (which one
lamp only illuminated in patches) in.
order to hide the tears upon her eye
lids.
True as preaching. was just get
ting into the train for Haven this
afternoon-I had been up to town for
q trifle of shoppingsand ! heard
familiar voice saying. ALLOW me to
carry your bundle, Mrs. Ames.'
1t made me shiver and my
blood curdle. l looked over my
shoulders, expecting to see a ghost-a
railway stations q queer place Tor a
ghost, though, isn't it? Well, there
stood Aleck Fanshawe. shan't be
any more surprised at the Day oil
Judgment"
"What a changer" cried Miss LIE Bret
on; "and they are all in their mourn
ing, and the stone up in the cemetery,
and the estate administered upon. i
wonder where Betty is?'
Eyes, seems as though they'd been
to mortal lot of expense tor moth
ing"
"And what happy day for Louise
Turner" sighed Miss LIE Breton. u
suppose he has cabled to his father"
Mrs. Ames answered with a hearty
laugh. That's the oldest part OF it.
He asked about all the folks, coming
down in the train; he didn't know
they'd gone to Europe. Andhe asked
first of all after you, Betty--upon my
word! And you don't want to know
about Louise?' said |. Louise who?.
said he. Why. Louise Turner, oil
course?' What about her? Is she
married or dead?' Married. ] cried;
why, Aleck Fanshawe, are you mad,
or making believe? Didn't you ex.
pect that Louise Turner would con-
Tess her engagement to you, you sly
old dog, after the wsof your death?'